The PJ Predicament
by hiphopchica7
Summary: Rose has had a bad dream and needs comfort. The Doctor obliges to help. Oneshot.


Until now, she had always come to breakfast dressed and ready to run. Jeans, running shoes, a sweatshirt. A cup of hot tea would be pushed into her hands and the Doctor's ice blue eyes would focus on her warm chocolate ones without wavering.

But a bleary eyed Rose stumbled into the gallery this morning, wearing what he assumed to be her pajamas. The pajamas that only consisted of a measly pair of silk shorts and a thin vest top.

The Doctor's mouth dropped open with a near audible 'guh' as his eyes scrambled to look at anything other than her scantily clad form.

She rubbed her eyes and stepped into the kitchen, taking the mug from his hands and sitting down at the table.

He had heard her the night before, his superior Time Lord senses picked up on her tossing and turning and he had to clench his fists to resist going to comfort her. The TARDIS was no help, nudging and hinting, until finally shoving him towards her room where he peeked through the door and saw her, her eyebrows drawn and sheets twisted.

He was astounded by his overwhelming urge to go in there and hold her until she calmed, and had to close the door and leave to stop himself. After all, she had only known him for a few weeks, what would she think of an old man with ears too large coming in and spooning her? He had only just found her, and he wasn't ready to give her up. Didn't think he'd ever be.

He was pulled out of his day dream by a mumbled "G'mornin" from Rose, her mug already half empty.

He suprised himself when he reached over and rested his hand over hers, asking if she wanted to talk about it.

She looked up from her cup with the same surprise he supposed he has on his own face.

"It..." she started, glancing back down at the table as if insecure. He squeezed her hand and she spoke again. "It was about the Dalek. The one in Van Stattin's museum. Except this time the Dalek had you. And I couldn't stop it, I couldn't help you and I felt so _useless_ and I kept watching you fall and no matter how far I ran I couldn't reach you. And you just kept dying over and over again and it all seemed so _real!_" Her last word came out as a sob and the Doctor got up from his chair and scooped her in his arms, carrying her down the hallway to his room. As he pushed open the door he could feel her pressing her nose into his jacket, and he knew (from experience) that she was making sure this was real, that he was real.

He laid her on the dark blue sheets and covered her in a matching blanket, glancing up at the painted constellations on his ceiling before moving to leave, stopping when he felt Rose's hand in his, pulling him back.

"Stay. Please."

He turned slowly, comtemplating, before bending down and unlacing his boots, kicking them off along with his leather jacket. By the time he had finished, she had scooted to the other side of the bed and was now holding the comforter up for him.

He rolled in beside her, stiff and unmoving, trying to keep space between them until he felt Rose pull him over to her side, pressing her hand onto his chest and her head on his shoulder. His movements came more naturally than he thought they should have. He rolled onto his side, wrapping an arm around her back to pull her closer, intertwining their feet.

As he looked down on her now sleeping form, he realized that he hadn't slept in a long time. Fear of his own nightmares, of the Time War, of losing her. Unconsciously he pulled her closer, closing his eyes and sleeping more soundly than he had in a long time.

-0-

When Rose awoke, she felt warm and slightly smushed. Her eyes opened to the Doctor's face hanging slightly above hers and his body cushioned on top of hers, like he had rolled over while sleeping and ended up sprawled across her rather than next to her. She stifled a giggle and basked in the moment of seeing the Doctor utterly and completely calm. Usually he was running from place to place, either excited, anxious, or in complete concentration, but never like this, never so calm and relaxed. She traced the lines of his face with a careful finger, outlining his jawline, his eyebrows, the shell of his ear, the circles under his eyes, quickly pulling her hand back and feigning sleep when she felt him stir under her fingertips.

The Doctor groaned and stretched as he came back into consciousness, and Rose had to bite her lip to keep from moaning when his rough jeans rubbed against her bare thighs and his woolen jumper pushed up against her chest. She felt him suddenly freeze, and she assumed he had just opened his eyes and realized where he was.

_Well, _thought Rose nerviously, _ it's now or never._

She opened her eyes and shifted underneath him to face him head on. They both held their breath and ceased speaking, moving, and even blinking, as if any slight change would break whatever sort of spell they were under.

The Doctor cleared his throat and grumbled a "Good morning," his voice seemingly huskier and deeper than normal.

"Good morning," she replied, her tone matching his.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah."

The awkward silence that followed was painstakingly long, the Doctor seemingly contemplating something and Rose merely trying to catalogue every detail of the face she'd never seen so close before.

She was surprised when she felt his hand move up to brush her hair out of her face, and her breath hitched when he leaned towards her, pressing his lips to her forehead, her nose, both her cheeks, before finally, _finally, _lightly brushing against her lips.

He scrambled back immediately, pushing himself off the bed and, consequently, off of her, muttering frantic apologies under his breath. He grabbed his coat and his shoes and avoided eye contact with her as he rushed out of the room.

Rose let herself sink back on her pillows, groaning and forcing herself not to cry or get up to slap the man into his senses.

She ruffled a hand through her thoroughly messed up hair before rolling out of bed and getting ready for day, hoping he hadn't set the coordinates for the Powell Estates to send her back. She pushed the terrifying thought out of her head and walked down the coral hallways to the console room.

She found him dancing around the console, pushing buttons and pulling levers.

He stopped when he saw her, and a look of what she thought was fear flitted across his face before it was covered up by his usual rough and guarded expression.

"She's all set up to take up to Fergheti. Lovely planet, three moons and bright purple skies."

"Doctor," Rose started.

"Unless you wanted to...leave. I wouldn't blame you." He put his head in his hands.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No! It's just- I'm old, Rose. I've seen deaths and wars and destruction. Hell, I've caused them. I was born in rage and grief and I don't want to take you down with me. You...you helped me, saved me, from so much, from myself and I can't ask any more of you. I'm death, Rose, and you're life."

She should have looked scared. She should have run, and hid, and asked to be taken back home because and alien with two hearts and the weight of the universe on his shoulders basically just pronounced his love for her.

But not her.

Not his Rose.

Slowly, quietly, she walked up to him and took his hand. Took the weight off his shoulders and put it on her own. Decided that she could, and would, help him through anything this blasted universe threw their way.

Because it was better with two. But only Rose.

And this time, when he bent down to kiss her, he didn't run away.

* * *

**A/N: For all of you following my Star Crossed story, I'm going to try to get back into writing it, hence this story. Hope you enjoyed!**


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